


the young king

by rookfire



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 15:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16244072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookfire/pseuds/rookfire
Summary: i unfortunately love soo won... help me... i had to write this after the chapter where soo won tells son hak he looks up to him





	the young king

Two boys grew up side-by-side  
and they were as different as night and day.  
He was self-satisfied grins and wild impulsivity,  
you were happy curiosity and open enthusiasm.  
Do you remember?  
Happiness was as round and full as the sun and the moon.

You looked up to his casual confidence,   
his bold daring,   
and his quick wits.   
To you, he hung the moon.   
So, you said,  
 _you are my goal,_  
and you meant every word.

He was family and friend and comfort all at once.   
You rested against his shoulder and thought,   
_if I have you by my side, everything will be alright._

But some things are not meant to last.   
Somewhere down the path you chose,   
you began to lose yourself.   
You, who find heart-deep joy in people,  
began to cut and cull lives   
like separating chaff from wheat.  
 _For the sake of the kingdom,_  
you murmur to yourself,   
and the words are as pale and lifeless   
as the face that meets your gaze in the mirror.   
How many such reasons have you told yourself  
to dull deaden kill   
the living beating heart   
that cries at the sight of every tear?   
Maybe you started closing your eyes   
since you were small,   
maybe the injustices you gazed upon   
slashed at your heart   
until it was a hardened oozing mess,  
maybe the bitter poison of hatred   
whispered and seduced you to kill,  
but when you begin   
to see people as   
numbers   
and lives as   
chess pieces,   
you must lose a little something,   
if only so you can meet your own eyes  
and fall asleep on the moonless nights.  
You hand over a part of yourself   
with every ruthlessness that your hand deals out   
for giving to others is to give to yourself.

You are a king now,   
and you are growing into a leader bar none.   
Subtle as a hand running over silk,   
a quicksilver mind faster than a glance,   
eyes that catch and trap everything,   
and a mind that plays and wins chess   
like it was born for it.   
You outwit every opponent. 

But do those sharp eyes see your childhood friend?   
Would it hurt   
to see the dark flinch of sorrow   
that passes like a shadow across his face   
every time your name is mentioned?   
Does it hurt   
to see how her eyes look hard and flat,   
and yet strangely like that of a wounded animal’s,   
when she looks at you?   
Does it hurt   
to see his eyes turn into those of a shark   
when he saw you for the first time again;   
the grieving bloodlustful hatred that   
gripped him like a claw;   
the feral way he turned on you   
like he had forgotten who he was?

Soo-won,   
turn back now,   
before you lose every   
inch   
and   
sliver   
of yourself   
to nothingness.   
Your own eyes  
look more and more lifeless and grim   
as you take step after step  
willingly and voluntarily  
into a soulless place.   
The boy you were –  
sunny, affectionate, and kind –  
would he rue what he would become,   
or would he gaze   
with resigned and determined eyes   
upon the figure of you,   
and accept this as the price  
of righting a kingdom? 

Turn back,   
it is not too late. 

But you and I both know  
you will not.


End file.
